


Christmas Music

by a-winchester-fairytale (unleash_your_imagination)



Series: 12 Days of Chirstmas 2017 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Reader-Insert, SPN - Freeform, Series, Singing, Supernatural - Freeform, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unleash_your_imagination/pseuds/a-winchester-fairytale
Summary: Just a little Christmas fluff to get through the holidays!





	Christmas Music

It had been a long night and you were certain that Dean and Sam would be asleep. You eased the bunker door open and closed it behind you as quietly as possible. With your shoes in your hand, you tiptoed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom as soon as music hit your ears. At first you assumed that Dean had fallen asleep with some Netflix show playing on the laptop, but as you drew closer to your room, you heard it stop and then start again. The tune seemed vaguely familiar, but it was too quiet and too far away to make out.

You tried to ignore it, changing into some sweats and a flannel shirt to take the chill out of your body. The sound of it, aside from being barely noticeable, was remarkably clear. Curiosity slowly got the better of you and you wandered down the hall. As you got closer to Dean’s room, you realized it wasn’t coming from the laptop, but that he was playing the guitar. The song, no longer vaguely familiar, was a Christmas song.

“Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas….” You heard his voice singing low. “make the…mmm…mmm…from now on….our…troubles will be…mmm…mmm” He continued, occasionally the words trailing off when he didn’t remember them or when he was concentrating on a specific chord.

You glanced around behind you, almost certain that this was part of some elaborate joke, but the rest of the bunker was dark and silent. You smiled tenderly and noticed that his door was cracked open. You pushed on it gently until you saw him sitting on the floor next to his bed with the guitar across his legs. He glanced up at you, blush forming on his cheeks.

“Hey, Y/n. How long have you been home?” He tried to sound casual, but he took notice of your sweats and quickly ducked his eyes downward.

“Long enough.” You answered, smirking.

“I, uh…I thought you would be gone longer.” He admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He moved the guitar aside and climbed up to his feet to face you.

“Me too, but I’m glad I’m home. You don’t have to stop what you were doing. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” You stepped closer to him, feeling guilty about the fact that he obviously was trying to hide what he was doing.

“Embarrassed?” He faked shock at the implication, using that cocky grin he saved for when he was trying to play things off. You nodded, and he rolled his eyes. You knew him too well. “Just don’t tell Sam, ok?” He surrendered.

“I won’t,” you promised. “On one condition.” You added, biting down on your lower lip slightly. The look on his face made you suddenly nervous about finishing that thought.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That you keep playing.” You whispered, afraid that he would baulk at your request. He pulled back, more surprised than upset.

“What for?”

“Because it is beautiful, Dean. I love your voice, when you are being serious. When you aren’t screaming at the top of your lungs in the impala, anyway.” You teased him to try and cover your request with humor. Dean wasn’t the only one fond of that trick. You pushed him gingerly, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt in your hand instead of letting go. He blushed for the second time tonight and took your hand in his own.

“Okay.” He agreed, timidly.

You let him go and he picked up the guitar, this time sitting down on the edge of the bed and you slid down next to him. Unsteady at first, he started to play for you. He almost quit when he hit the wrong chord the first time, his hands shaking slightly with nerves.

“Please, Dean…” You whispered, begging him not to quit. He looked up at your pleading eyes and sighed. He started again, this time getting the notes just right. His confidence grew as he got to the second part of the song and almost forgot you were sitting there with him.

He began humming, followed by a few words in a low airy voice. You started to hum along with him without even realizing you were doing it at first. His eyes flicked up to your face and he smiled. He never told you, but he loved to hear you singing around the bunker when you thought no one could hear you. You would hum quietly as you cooked or cleaned, sometimes even when you were researching in the library. He would stand just outside the door, leaning against the wall, and just enjoy the sound of your voice.

When the song ended, the two of you sat still, your eyes locked on one another for a moment. You couldn’t seem to move your eyes away from the beautiful green orbs staring back at you, only inches from your face. As if he realized that he was staring, he cleared his throat and looked away, freeing you from the hold his eyes had over you. You stood, obviously nervous now, and took a few steps toward the door.

“I better go. Good night, Dean.” You rattled, a little too fast, and turned to go back to your own room; his quiet good-night following you out of the door.


End file.
